Page 97 of The Very First Night

“Yes, but not until at least one. She’s closing at the restaurant.”

“Good,” I say before pressing a gentle kiss to Kat’s lips, then standing and scooping her up into my arms. She starts to laugh uncontrollably as I walk her toward her bedroom, toward the bed against the far wall that I find great comfort in knowing Elijah has never touched. It will always be a goal in my life—as long as she’ll have me—to erase every memory she has with him, good and bad, and replace it with nothing but love.

FORTY-SEVEN

KAT

Tanner gently lowers me onto my plush, queen-sized bed with practiced ease. His expression is a mix of determination and tenderness, a rare combination for him. Usually, he exudes confidence in all things sexual, and I must admit, it’s well-deserved. He knows how to make me feel good in ways that no one else ever has or could. In this moment, though, I can tell he wants to make sure I feel safe and loved above all else.

His eyes read only one thing: pure, unadulterated love—and God if I’m not a ball of putty at his disposal. I’ve spent the better part of the last six months working to break the habit of allowing Elijah—or any man—to make me feel less-than. I thought that would mean not allowing myself to be vulnerable anymore.

But I was wrong. So, so, so wrong.

It’s almost as if Tanner has found a way to bypass all of my barriers, no matter how hard I attempt to keep him at a distance. He effortlessly breaks through the walls I put up and I’m tired of fighting it. I know I should be more freaked out about his big reveal.

Even if I can’t remember anything about the future beyond the night we went back, I know with absolute confidence that it happened exactly the way it was supposed to.

My mind is consumed with thoughts of Tanner and the revelations about my father brought to light by Patrick yesterday. My conflicted emotions swirl within me like a storm, each one vying for dominance over the others. On one hand, I know that my dad is sick and it’s only natural for me to feel some level of concern. But on the other hand, there’s a sense of detachment and even resentment toward him that I can’t shake off.

I wonder if this makes me a terrible person. Shouldn’t I be showing more compassion for someone who is battling cancer? Yet, deep down, I can’t help but feel that Patrick Marritt Sr. doesn’t deserve my tears or sympathy.

Despite this knowledge, I can’t ignore the nagging curiosity in my chest—the intense desire to meet the man who fathered me, even if it’s just out of morbid curiosity.

But now is not the time to dwell on everything my father isn’t.

Tanner leans over me, his brows furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. His body feels tense and rigid against mine, the opposite response one would hope for when the man they love hovers over them after declaring their feelings. He seems stressed, not elated.

“What?” I ask.

“Something is going on in that pretty head of yours. What’s on your mind?”

His unnerving ability to effortlessly navigate and control my emotions is steadily becoming more and more terrifying. It’s as if he possesses a unique level of insight and understanding that no one else in this world has. It’s both mesmerizing and unsettling in equal measures.

“Noth—” I clear my throat, failing to find confidence. “Nothing, just a long day.”

A sigh falls past his lips as he settles next to me on the bed with his head propped on his arm. “What made it such a long day?”

I don’t know. Could it be the fact that I met my brother for the first time yesterday only to find out that my father, who’s never cared to know me, has cancer? Is it the bridezilla who made the wedding I was photographing earlier an absolute nightmare? Or could it be that I almost tanked whatever this is between Tanner and I without a second thought because I was overwhelmed and didn’t know what else to do? It really could be anything, so I settle for the simplest response.

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” I reach out to pull him to me, to press my lips to his in hopes of steering this scenario back toward where it needs to go, but he doesn’t allow me to do so.

“Kat,” he growls, his hand gripping my hip tightly. It’s a tone that always makes me weak in the knees, but this time I sense something different. His voice softens as he reaches up and caresses my cheek with his thumb, his piercing eyes searching mine for answers. “What’s wrong, Kat? Talk to me.” My heart races as his expression transforms from intense to loving in a matter of seconds. It’s so uniquely Tanner, confusing and comforting me at once.

Ignoring my every instinct, I do exactly as he asks. I tell him everything. I tell him about how the bride wanted her maid of honor removed from the premises. I tell him how Patrick confided in me about our father’s cancer diagnosis, sending my mind into chaos.

Tanner’s voice is calm and curious, void of any judgment as he poses the question: “Do you think you’re going to meet him?”

“Would it make me horrible if I didn’t want to?” The dichotomy of emotions that exists within me at the prospect of seeing my dad threatens to overwhelm me.

“No, it wouldn’t make you a horrible person.” Tanner positions his pointer finger underneath my chin, nudging it upward so my eyes meet his. “It makes you human. He’s done nothing to deserve your kindness, and if it were purely about him, I wouldn’t even think to encourage you to do it. But I think meeting him might give you some closure you might not have thought about.”

I know Tanner is right, but I can’t help the cowardice that washes over me at the thought of meeting the man who sired me.

I smile up at Tanner, causing his eyes to soften. “I’ll think about it.”

All he does is nod before his lips land on mind. His kiss is soft and tentative and everything I need right now. It’s not outright sexual, but it leaves me rubbing my thighs together just the same. More than anything, I just want the comfort that being touched by Tanner provides. He’s about the only person in existence who can take me so fully out of my own head, and I need that right now.

He pulls away from the kiss for a split second as his eyes rake over my expression, searching for any objection to him continuing. He won’t find apprehension on my face, though, only complete and utter encouragement.

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